


How would I tell him that he's all I think about? (Well, I guess he just found out)

by PersonyPepper



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, barely, geralt learns what love is!!, i tried guys, jaskier is surprised pikachu face no lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24951040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonyPepper/pseuds/PersonyPepper
Summary: Their rough touches, their rough kisses and soft moans, soft looks.It’s love.It has to be— Geralt’s never felt anything so explosive with emotion, never felt more seen than when he’s with Yennefer.When he tells her this, she laughs, her skin flush and her heart still quite fast from where she lays beside Geralt. Her hair tickles at his face as he turns to her, her smile so beautiful, though so cruel to his heart.Or, Geralt learns what love is.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, briefly - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 192





	How would I tell him that he's all I think about? (Well, I guess he just found out)

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy, my loves! This was a prompt fill for ladyahiru on tumblr! 
> 
> My tumblr's @persony-pepper, come say hi! <33 I rb witcher things and take geraskier writing prompts of all kinds.

Yennefer is more the chaos than chaos itself will ever be. They clash together, a mess of lips and limbs and broken hearts and broken pasts, desperately clinging to each other in attempts at forgetting who they are for a couple hours. 

Their rough touches, their rough kisses and soft moans, soft looks. 

It’s love.

It has to be— Geralt’s never felt anything so explosive with emotion, never felt more seen than when he’s with Yennefer.

When he tells her this, she laughs, her skin flush and her heart still quite fast from where she lays beside Geralt. Her hair tickles at his face as he turns to her, her smile so beautiful, though so cruel to his heart.

“Do you even know what love feels like, Geralt?” The witcher turns back to the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest, his wolf’s medallion thumming idly with the contained chaos from around Yenna.

“Like this,” he says, so afraid of being wrong. Yennefer turns to her front, resting on her forearms as she faces the witcher.

“I felt love a long time ago. Before Aretuza. That love was innocent… nothing like us, Geralt.” It’s rare that Yennefer talks about her time being human, even now, her happy memory is tinged with pain, “I gave her flowers, wanted to braid her hair and hold her hand, watch sunsets— how young I was,” she trails off, lost to her memories.

“What is love, then,” Geralt asks, “If it’s not what we have?” She smiles, tight-lipped as she looks at him.

“Perhaps you should ask your bard. He’s quite useless at most things, but he’s a lover after all.”

~~

“Jaskier.” It’s been months since he last saw Yenn but the question still haunts him day and night till he’s itching with the need to find out, his brain scratched raw from thinking about it. His bard looks up at him, blue eyes reflecting fire like the sun in the sky.

“What’s love?” He fights a flush as he asks the question, knowing full well he sounds like a too-curious child. Jaskier doesn’t reply, only stares at him, lips turned downward unhappily, and his eyes tight in confusion, as if asking him you don’t know?

“Forget it,” he mumbles quietly, crawling into his bedroll. They have a long journey ahead of them and this has to be put behind him— he’s been obsessing over it, he realizes, distracted on hunts with the question, so impossible to shove away as it follows him every second he’s awake. He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep, or at least fall into meditation to find reprieve from his thoughts. 

“Love is what—” Geralt opens his eyes, looking up at the bard, who’s still sat upon the log, lute clutched to his chest. He sighs, setting it into its case as he goes to lay down beside Geralt, staring up at the stars twinkling in the sky, as unpredictable as the fire that flickers next to them, as irregular as Jaskier’s heart in his chest. The witcher turns his head to look at him, stray wisps of hair framing his face as he waits for Jaskier to continue.

“Love is what I feel for you, Geralt,” he all but whispers, breathless as the words leave him in a rush. “Love, for me, is waking up beside you in the rare mornings I wake before you and listening to your even breaths keep beat to the song the breeze sings to me. Love is sharing a look when we know we’re going to be cheated out of coin or driven out of town. It’s laughing with you, though your sense of humour is horrid— a dick with balls, Geralt, really? That’s when I knew I liked you at least, you’d already charmed your way into my heart, you cock— anyways… ” The witcher listens carefully as Jaskier soldiers on, the playful smile sliding off his face. 

“And when I worry for you, each time you fight some monster or another, no matter how easy it is for you, and patching you up when you inevitably come back bleeding and hurt. Loving you is rubbing chamomile into your shoulders and washing your hair— and throwing hands with any bastard that dares speak ill of you, or looks at you in a wrong way.”

Jaskier sighs, turning to his side, his back to the fire as he faces Geralt. “Love is staying with you, though you love Yennefer and will never love me.” He cups the witcher’s face so gently, hesitation in his touches that have never been there before. “Love is following you to the ends of the Continent, wanting to kiss you and knowing I never can.” Jaskier sighs and pulls away, falling back onto his back, eyes slipping closed.

The witcher hums in reply. Jaskier loves him. He’s known this for a while, but he’s never understood what it’s meant: “So, love is caring for someone and… happy moments,” his voice is deep, his words slow as he works out his thoughts, “and sacrificing things for them. And staying by them no matter the pain.”

“No.” And Geralt’s confused again. “It’s important to know when you must stop loving before you lose yourself. Love can be… all-consuming, especially when it is unrequited. Love is learning to let go, too.” They fall into silence, Jasksier’s heart so slow that the witcher thinks he’s fallen asleep. He listens to the breeze sing to him, holding Jaskier’s even breaths to keep beat.

~~

“Yenn, you were right,” he says in way of greeting. Jaskier sits by him in the booth, scowling at the sorceress as he nurses a beer, Geralt dressed in his armour as she slips into the seat opposite to them. “I don’t love you.” She grins at him, red-painted lips stretching with lazy glee.

Jaskier sets his drink down, eyes wide. “Wait, wh—”

“Took you long enough,” she says, violet eyes bright.

Geralt nods, a pleasant, innocent smile on his face. “I love Jaskier.”

The bard sputters beside him, choking on his beer, his face turning red as he stares up at Geralt in disbelief.

“Wait,  _ what _ ?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


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